A Final Song
by Phillipa Aizen
Summary: A TNG R/T story that takes place at the end of the episode "The Survivors."


"A Final Song" A ST:TNG and R/T story written by Phillipa Aizen. Rated [PG-13] to be on the safe side. 

This is just a quick, short story. It takes place at the end of the TNG episode "The Survivors." You can read it if you haven't seen the episode, but some parts will not make very much sense :-) 

DISCLAIMERS: Paramount owns Star Trek and the Star Trek universe. 

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"A Final Song" 

In the blink of an eye, the peculiar entity that had been known as Kevin Uxbridge was gone, and Jean-Luc Picard knew undoubtedly that he would never see him again. 

((What kind of madness can drive a man to such destruction?)) wondered Picard, and he found himself feeling deeply disturbed as he gazed across at the concerned expression on Beverly Crusher's face. He couldn't help pondering whether or not he would have gone to such lengths for something as simple as revenge. 

"You look worried, Jean-Luc," Beverly observed quietly, gazing intently at his face. 

He shook his head to clear it, trying to get a grip on the startling events of the past few days. It was simply too much to comprehend. "I need to go back to the bridge, Doctor," he said distractedly. "I want you to stay here and keep an eye on the counsellor until she wakes up, just to make sure she's all right. There will be a senior staff meeting in two hours." 

Beverly nodded professionally, and disappeared into the bedroom. Jean-Luc sighed wearily, taking a few moments to regain his shattered composure, then left Counsellor Troi's quarters. 

He was needed on the bridge to supervise the final analyses of Ranna. It would probably take another few days to piece together his final report, along with the data from the surface scans and the senior staff's reports. It was the part of a mission that Jean-Luc loathed and dreaded. ((Why does regulation have to be so damned complicated?)) he thought. 

As he strode through the corridors of his ship, he tried to replace the troubled expression on his face with one of weariness. It wouldn't do to have his officers noticing that he was distressed by the way things had turned out. 

The questions that remained in his mind would torture him for many years. ((Was it the right thing? Should I have considered SOME punishment for such a heinous crime? How coudl anyone do somethind so completely nightmarish?)) 

The quesitons were piling on top of each other, more and more, each one pointing a finger of blame at Picard for not having done something in response to Kevin's admission. Nobody should be allowed to escape from such atrocities without even a word of reprimand, and it had been Jean-Luc Picard who had failed to issue that reprimand. 

He releaed one final sigh as he stepped into the turbolift, and then worked on his expression. He knew that his crew would understand his turmoil once they became aware of what had happened, but that did not stop him trying to put on a facade of calm. The only person who would know what was happening behind the mask was at that moment unconscious as she recovered from three days of telepathic abuse. 

All of a sudden, he felt very lonely. 

------------------------------ 

As Picard stepped onto the bridge, Will Riker leaped from the captain's chair. He noticed immediately the thoughtful expression on Picard's face, and frowned, wondering what additional piece of information had been added to the puzzle. 

"Captain, what's going on?" he demanded the moment that Picard had taken his seat. "Where is Kevin?" 

Picard frowned at the viewscreen, ignoring Will's questions for a few moments. It was the first time Will had ever seen him looking so preoccupied. ((What the hell is going on here?)) he thought desperately. "Sir, I did ask you a que--" 

"I heard you, Number One," interrupted Picard in a voice that was coarse with tension. "I'll explain everything to you in two hours, when there will be a senior staff meeting. Until then, you can wait and be patient like everyone else." 

Will tried not to show his concern as he sat back in his chair. He supposed that he shouldn't have commented on the captain's failure to answer, and realised that it must have sounded insolent...but surely his "disrespect" wasn't enough to disturb his captain so deeply. Had the being known as Kevin Uxbridge done somethign to the captain? They knew that he was dangerous, but had failed to act quickly enough to stop the captain from chasing the creature. 

"Sir, I apologise if I acted disrepectfully," he said softly, then waited for Picard to nod, showing his acceptance. "Permission to speak frankly, sir?" 

Picard's next words sent a shock of concern flowing through everyone present on the bridge. He had always been known as a calm, rational individual, who had no worries about letting one of his officers speak out in public. 

"Permission denied, Number One. Please refrain from questioning me any further until the briefing," he said, and lapsed into a silence that was so tangible, it could almost be cut with a knife. 

------------------------------ 

Beverly sat quietly in Deanna's quarters, riffling through some notes. There was nothing that she could do for her friend until she knew what Deanna's mental condition was, and she would not know that until the counsellor awakened. 

Silently, she worried about her friend, knowing that nothingcould erase the memories of such painful torture from Deanna's mind. Even though the douwd had said that she was fine, Beverly knew that there would be some serious repercussions that would not be easily dealt with. 

It had broken Beverly's heart to see such a composed individual as Deanna Troi in such intense turmoil. She didn't want to consider how close her friend had been to losing sanity...and that failure would have fallen solely on Beverly's shoulders. 

Deanna stirred, sighing quietly as she rolled over, and became still once more. ((So innocent...)) Beverly placed the padd on the bedside table, and moved to replace the covers from where Deanna had thrown them to the floor in her effort to become more comfortable. 

The first thing that Beverly noticed as she gazed into Deanna's sleeping features was that her skin was flushed. The second thing she noticed was that her eyelids were flickering wildly, and Beverly realised instantly that that meant she was either having one hell of a dream, or waking up. 

She reached out to softly stroke Deanna's face, trying to lull the counsellor back into slumber...but it was no good. Much as she needed the rest, Deanna was beginning to stretch. Beverly took a deep breath, praying for normalcy. 

Deanna screamed. 

------------------------------ 

With hands like talons, Deanna reached out and clutched at Beverly's uniform tunic. Her face was moist with tears, and she was perspiring heavily as she met the doctor's eyes. 

"Beverly..." she whispered, closing her eyes in pain and terror as her fists curled around the soft fabric of the medical smock. "Beverly...help me...please...I hear the music...MAKE IT STOP!!!" 

She could not hear Beverly's quiet voice as she gently wrapped her arms around the distraught counsellor. The music still swelled and dipped with feeling inside her mind, and nothing that she could do or think would make it go away. "It's all right," said Beverly over and over again into Deanna's hair. "It's all right. The music is gone..." 

"It's not, it's not, it's NOT!!" howled Deanna, pressing her face into Beverly's chest. "I still hear it! It won't go away! PLEASE GO AWAY!!" 

Beverly pushed her away, and glared into her eyes. "Deanna!" she snapped roughly. "Take it easy." She waited patiently for Deanna's breathing to calm slightly, and then held her close, stroking her hair with featherlike touches. "Now, listen inside yourself, carefully." 

For a brief moment, Deanna wondered what she was trying to say. Eventually, she understood. Beverly wanted her to listen inside her mind, to focus on the music. "Listen to it, Deanna," Beverly's voice continued softly. "Do you still hear the music?" 

"Yes..." she whispered, unconvincingly. In truth, she could not hear the insistent pounding of the eerie notes inside her mind, but she did not dare admitting that to Beverly. 

As she trembled in the doctor's loving embrace, Deanna sobbed quietly. The torture was over. The realisation that she would never have to hear that song ever again was such a profound relief that she could not contain the release of all her pain. 

"Thank you..." she whispered softly to Beverly, and allowed herself to be overcome with childish joy at the freedown she suddenly rediscovered. "Oh, thank you so much!" 

Beverly patted her gently on the back, and she sniffled quietly, then straightened up and climbed out of bed for the first time in a day and a half. "I hate to tell you this," said Beverly in that gentle, reassuring voice. "But I didn't do anything." Panic rose inside her heart at those words. ((She can't think that I imagined this whole thing...can she?)) 

"You d-didn't?" she gulped. 

"No. It's long and complicated, and I think you should wait until you're feeling better until I give you the full story. We have a senior staff meeting in about an hour and a half, if you're strong enough by then to go." 

Deanna stumbled over to the replicator, suddenly realising that she was unsteady on her feet. Her legs wobbled beneath her, as if she had drunk too much alcohol. "Oh...umm, Beverly, what's wrong with my legs?" she asked softly. 

"We have to put you into a coma to prevent further mental deterioration," Beverly explained. "You're still a little uncoordinated from that. It'll wear off within a couple of hours. Just take it easy until then, okay?" 

Giggling, Deanna leaned against the wall, and frowned at the room, which spun around her. She knew that it was a normal reaction to the medical procedure and general trauma that she had been through, but that didn't help her multiple vision. 

"I feel drunk," she commented. 

Beverly smiled knowingly. "I know you do," she said, and guided her back towards the bed. "Just be grateful you're feeling light-headed. It could have easily gone the other way." 

((Grateful?)) thought Deanna, laying back down and holding her head to stop the room from tilting and swaying like an ancient sailing vessel. In spite of the dizziness, she felt fabulous beyond words. All she needed was the knowledge that the music was gone, and it was not coming back. 

She sighed contentedly, and waited for the universe to decide that she **wasn't** the center of everything, and stop revolving around her. 

------------------------------ 

By the time the room stopped behaving like an old-fashioned fairground ride and started behaving like a room, it was already time to go to the senior staff meeting. 

Deanna was feeling infinitely better when she stepped through the doors of the conference lounge, and even met the concerned glance of Captain Picard with a healthy grin. Looking at Beverly, who still hovered beside her, Deanna realised that the doctor had not expected her to be back to her "old" self so soon. 

Truth be told, she hadn't expected herself to feel so normal after everything that had happened. Other than feeling slightly drained, she felt ready to return happily to work. Still, she did not quite feel confident enough to hum to herself, as she usually did when she was in a good mood. 

As she carefully sat in her customary seat between Beverly and Will Riker, she leaned towards the captain, and thanked him. "Sir, I don't remember too much about what's happened over the past few days...but I know that you were really helpful and understanding. Thank you." 

The captain nodded politely. "I would have done the same for any other member of my crew, Counsellor," he said softly. 

"I know, sir, but I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your thought and consideration." As those words left her lips, she felt a raging hatred flow from somebody on the table that she could not yet identify. It was so powerful that she felt faintly woozy for a moment, before regaining her composure and focusing more intently on the feeling. 

It was not merely hatred, but self-hatred, a sensation of loathing so intense that she truly worried about the individual that was suffering so greatly. 

"Oh...my...God!" she whispered aloud. 

Beverly turned to her immediately, concern written all over her face, and Deanna waved her away impatiently. She had to focus, to disentangle this person's anger from the roiling confusion of the other crewmembers surrounding her. 

All of a sudden, she realised who was feeling such guilt and self-violence. In a voice that was trembling with the force of their emotion, she spoke one word. 

"Will...?" 

He glanced up from where he had been gazing at his clenched fists, and mustered a wan smile, one that she could see was being held there with sheer force of will. "Yes, Deanna?" he said quietly. 

"Umm...can I speak with you after the meeting? It's kind of important..." She graced him with one of her special grins, the one that she knew would always bring him to agree with her. 

He did not rise to the bait. "Later," he growled, then forced himself to relax a little. "Much later, all right? I have too much work to do right now." 

She decided to leave it. He would bring whatever was bothering him to the surface when he was ready to admit it to himself. Still, she made a mental note to keep a close eye on his state of mind as the meeting progressed. 

As the captain explained the situation that had unfolded regarding Kevin Uxbridge, Deanna kept half of her mind focused on Will's turbulent thoughts. Beverly had explained to her in advance what had happened, and so the meeting did not require her full attention. 

"And thankfully," the captain continued, "there was no irreperable damage to the _Enterprise_ or her crew." His eyes fell distinctly on Deanna, and she lowered her face, embarrassed by the attention that she was suddenly given. 

The self-loathing inside Will suddenly swelled into an unstoppable wave of rage and fury. What had he done that was so terrible that he was tearing himself apart so completely over it. At that moment, though, even Will's emotional reactions became pushed to the back of her suddenly-overloaded consciousness. 

As she slumped forward in her chair, gasping in terror that was more violent than Will's guilt, one horrible thought wormed its way into her mind, and she choked out one word as she slammed face-first into the unyielding table. 

"Help..." she whispered, and then passed out. 

The music had returned once again to haunt her. 

------------------------------ 

An audible CRACK pierced the conference lounge as Deanna's head collided with the hard conference table. Will leapt towards her, quickly easing her away from the table, then swore aloud at his inability to react quickly enough to catch her as she had fallen. He knew without a doubt that he would have been able to had he not been dwelling in his own self-reproach at the time. 

While he had been cursing himself for not being able to help Deanna the first time, he had made certain that he would fail to help her again. He wrapped his arms around her prone form, trying not to dwell once more on his own guilt. 

As he held her, rocking her back and forth in his arms, Beverly stepped towards them, looking a little distracted. The tricorder was in her hand too quickly for the human eye to follow, and she began running it over Deanna's body. 

"Damn it!" she cursed, slamming her fist into the nearest wall. "You bastard! How could you do this to her again!?" Her face was suddenly damp with tears, and Will's concern grew more intense. "You promised it would NOT happen again!" 

Will looked up with desperate eyes, and Jean-Luc frowned across from where he still sat at the table. "Beverly...what's going on?" he asked softly, but Will could see from his face that he knew, which was more than Will knew at that moment. 

"Jean-Luc," whispered Beverly in a shaking voice. "These readings match the ones that I took when--" she paused, seemingly unsure of how much to reveal to the rest of the crew. Will felt his face grow hot with anger. ((How the hell am I supposed to help her, if I don't know what's wrong with her?)) 

Picard gazed into the counsellor's face, and Will saw his features contort as he took in the tension and pain that radiated from her. "Beverly, we need to know what's going on...can you wake her up?" 

"No!" she shouted. "We KNOW what's going on, Jean-Luc! Don't you dare order me to put her through the hell she was suffering last time!" Her knuckles were white as she clutched her tricorder. 

With a face like stone, Captain Picard pushed Will out of the way, and glared at Beverly. "Wake her," he hissed with an air of finality. 

Beverly did not take her eyes from Picard's face as she reached into her bottomless pockets and retrieved a hypospray. If Will hadn't been as close to her as he was, he would never have heard the viciously muttered words that she snarled at Picard as she injected Deanna with the stimulant. 

"You hypocritical bastard! You're just as bad as HE is!" Beverly turned away, and refused to meet Picard's gaze, as Deanna moaned and opened her eyes. 

------------------------------ 

Groaning, Deanna tried to sit up. "Mmm...what happened?" she whispered, and steadied herself against the wall as she noticed for the first time the pain in her skull. "Beverly?" 

Beverly leaned towards her, tricorder at the ready as she spoke in a soft and consoling tone of voice. "You passed out," she explained softly, then paused, seemingly waiting for Deanna to fill in some detail or another. 

"My head hurts." 

Beverly smiled, and checked her tricorder. "I think you'll find that's an understatement." She gingerly pushed a few buttons, then frowned at the tiny screen. "How are you feeling otherwise?" she asked, and her tone of voice suggested that she was expecting a particular answer. 

Hesitating for a moment, Deanna pondered the doctor's question. She felt fine, but something about Beverly's demeanour made it sound like there was something more serious to be considered. 

Then she noticed it. 

Not only was her head hurting, but there was a peculiar sensaiton torturing the back of her mind, like tiny centipedes crawling up and down her spinal cord. She twitched uncomfortably. "There is something inside my head..." she said with a thick accent. "It feels...strange." 

Beverly frowned, and concern washed over her and into Deanna's unbalanced consciousness. "Is that all?" Beverly asked softly. "Do you hear anything inside your mind?" 

With effort, Deanna closed out everything that she was consciously aware of, focusing on something that she was certain existed, but she did not know where to begin searching for it. Then, faintly, she heard a song whistling through her nerves, so quietly that she had missed it at first. It was a wordless, tuneless melody that went on and on, repeating itself until she became familiar with it. 

Memories of the other song filled her mind, and she felt her body--that small, distant presence--begin to shake with fear. That song had consumed her totally, not allowing her a moment of freedom...and now it was happening again. 

Snapping back to reality, she pressed her face into Beverly's tunic, and began to weep at the total violation. She did not pass out this time, but came very close to falling into a dead faint and never coming around again. Instead, she leaned forwards and took in deep rasping breaths, struggling to draw air into her lungs. She was so engulfed in her terror that she didn't notice that the music had faded into something almost inaudible the moment she had stopped focusing on it. 

"Beverly..." she whispered, clutching at her friend as if she was the only lifeline in the galaxy. At that moment, Beverly Crusher was the only person that she trusted enough to burden with her fears. "Please, Beverly...you can't let them do this to me...don't let this happen again..." 

((Easy, Deanna,)) she told herself. ((Take deep breaths, and relax...you're going to be fine.)) As she tried so hard to obey those thoughts, she felt her friend's arms tightening around her. 

"Jean-Luc!" shouted Beverly in a voice made tight with urgency. "I want everyone out of here right now! I don't want to move her until I know she's all right, and she desperately needs some room to breathe." 

As Picard began to evacuate the room, one voice spoke out, and Deanna struggled to make out a physical form through the mist of her tears. 

"I'm not leaving." 

"Will..." said Picard gently. "It's best for Deanna if she's left alone with Doctor Crusher. She needs physical and mental support, and the doctor is the one most qualified to give her that." 

The argument bore into Deanna's mind, making it even harder for her to focus on anything. She held tightly onto her friend. "I'm scared..." she choked so quietly that nobody else could hear it. "I don't want anything else...but PLEASE make the music go away! I can't go through this again..." 

"Get out of here, Will!" snapped Beverly. "If you ever cared about her well-being, you'll leave us alone so I can work on her!" 

((Will...)) Deanna thought hazily. "No. Please let him stay...but only him." 

The music swelled again, growing louder, almost to the point of volume that it had been the last time it had haunted her. The song was different, not the pleasant tune that it had been previously, but a echoing melody of melancholy and sadness that churned through her. And as it grew louder, more urgent, a word came and went within the notes, like the ghost of a whisper. 

((Help...)) whispered the voice within the music. 

"Help..." whispered Deanna Troi. 

------------------------------ 

Will watched with a flare of guilt and jealousy as Beverly rocked and soothed Deanna. Again, he was overwhelmed with self-hatred. ((Why wasn't I there the first time?)) he shouted at himself. ((I just left her there to suffer! What is wrong with me?)) 

"Ssshhh..." whispered Beverly, as Deanna's cries grew to a point of near hysteria. "Ssshhh...it's all right...just try and relax. I can't help you if you don't calm down a little bit." She said it in the kindest possible way, but Deanna pushed away angrily. 

"How the hell would you know?" she cried. "Do you have any idea how much this hurts me? Can you even imagine the amount of pain this is causing me? How dare you tell me to calm down!? You didn't do anything last time, why are you assuming that I'll believe you can do something this time? GET OUT!!" 

Beverly gave Will an imploring look, and he smiled reassuringly at her. Finally, he would be able to do something! He knelt beside Deanna's huddling figure, and opened his mind to her, allowing waves of calm to rush from him over her, soothing her far more than Beverly would ever be able to do. Eventually, her crazy wails dissipated into the softlest of whimpers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

"Thank you, Will..." she sniffled, having finally composed herself enough to speak coherently. "I just...feel so out of control. This person--Kevin?--is doing this to me as a cry for help...and it won't go away until I help him." 

He trailed his fingers through her hair. "Do you know what he wants?" 

"No. It's not as simple as that! He is such a powerful telepath that if he spoke to me, as he would speak to one of his kind...it would drive me insane. This is the safest way for him to call for help. You have to understand!" 

"He seems to be doing a pretty good job of driving you crazy by doing it this way..." commented Beverly dryly. Deanna shot her a furious glare. 

Will looked at her curiously. "It's not the safest way at all! He has a comm pin...why didn't he just use that to call for help?" 

He could see by the perplexed expression on her face that she was becoming impatient. "I don't know. All I know is that he needs help...from me or us, I'm not sure...and he needs it soon!" 

"All right," said Beverly in a voice tinged with rationality. "I think that before we do anything about this, we have to speak to the captain." 

Deanna pushed herself unsteadily from the floor, moaning as she straightened up. Her hand reached up to gently massage her temples, an action that she had become more familiar with over the past few days. "There's no time for that!" she insisted, her voice growing louder again. "We have to take action now! The captain will understand." 

Will frowned at her. What she suggested was bordering on mutiny, and he was not prepared to go against the captain's wishes simply based on a hunch. "I'm going to speak with Captain Picard," he said, with a note of finality. "If he says it's okay for us to beam down again, we will, but if not...then I think it would be appropriate for you to be confined to quarters...just to make sure this 'music' is not influencing your actions." 

Deanna blanched. "Confined??" She could barely get the word out. "I've never been confined to quarters in my life...You cannot be serious!" 

Will did not respond. "I want the two of you to stay here while I speak to the captain about this. Don't try anything stupid." He left the conference lounge hastily, and watched as the doors slid closed on Deanna's pale, tear-stained face. 

Pushing all thoughts of her from his mind, he crossed over to the captain's ready room to begin what promised to be a very awkward conversation. 

------------------------------ 

Picard glowered across his ready room table, frowning angrily at his first officer. Will could almost feel the tension radiating from the captain. 

"I don't like having to make split-second decisions, Number One," he said in his best no-nonsense tone of voice. 

Will sighed, having anticipated this reaction. "I know, Captain, and normally I wouldn't ask you to make one...but I'm truly afraid of what Deanna will do if I leave her alone for too long. She was very upset, and liable to overreact if I'm not back within the next few minutes." 

"I don't like this, Number One," the captain said bitterly. "You have clearly explained to me that she's mentally unstable, and yet you insist on taking her down to Ranna with you. Could you please explain your reasoning?" 

Will shifted anxiously in his seat. "It's not me, sir!" he stressed, "I'd sooner lock her up in sickbay and throw away the key, but she won't let me. She says that Kevin needs her help, and that she will not rest until she's helped him. She won't let me or Beverly anywhere near her until she's certain that we're not bent on stopping her from carrying out her 'purpose'. I think that Kevin may be planting rebellious tendencies inside her mind." 

They sat in permeable silence for several moments while Picard considered Will's words. Though neither of them spoke the words aloud, they both knew that Deanna would leave the _Enterprise_ even if she was not given permission. The tension grew to a point of such intensity that Will had to break it. 

"Sir...are you--" 

"Be quiet please, Number One," sighed Picard, and leaned over his desk to massage his temples. Will could almost feel the insistent pounding. "All right," he said eventually. "You can go down to Ranna...but be careful." 

Will leapt to his feet, thanked the captain, and practically ran towards the conference lounge. He couldn't wait to take the strain from Deanna's shoulders by telling her that she did **not** have to mutiny against the captain. 

Deanna was still sitting on the floor, and Beverly was gently rubbing her back. They both glanced up as the doors slid shut behind Will, and he was shocked by the pallor of Deanna's face. "Wow..." he whistled. "You're not looking so good..." 

"I'm not surprised," muttered Beverly, standing and brushing off her knees. "She's been sick twice, and she won't calm down, which is making her physical condition even worse. She's a mess!" Will frowned, and touched Deanna's sweat-soaked brow. "I think you should sit this one out, sweetie. You really look sick. Beverly and I can handle this mission..." 

"No. You. Can't." Deanna spoke the words clearly and quietly. Her white face was fixed into a determined scowl. "I. Am. Going. With. You. Do you understand me, or do I have to say it any more slowly?" 

Her face was set, and she would not be shaken from her selfless decision, while Beverly's was a picture of physician's concern and friend's panic. 

"I'm sorry, Beverly," he said softly, and moved to help Deanna to stand. "I know she's in lousy shape, but she's the only way we can find the problem...if there is one." 

Between the two of them, Will and Beverly managed to help Deanna out of the door and into the turbolift. Just before the doors opened, revealing the transporter room, Deanna leaned over, until her sweet breath blew softly across Will's cheek, and kissed him deeply. "Thank you, Imzadi..." she whispered. 

Then the doors opened, and Deanna pulled away, stepping up onto the transporter platform; she was already refocused on her mission. Within a matter of moments, they glittered into existence in the Uxbridge garden. The only sign that anything had passed between them was the shy grin on Deanna's face, and the smear of lipstick across Will's cheek. 

----------------------------- 

The bright sunshine glared directly into his eyes the moment the transporter effect faded from Will's vision. He winced a little, until his eyes focused on the familiar building that stood before him. Almost reflexively, he turned to face Deanna. 

She was pressing her fingers into her temples with such strength that he began to worry she would injure herself. The discomfort was evident on her face as she squinted up at him with streaming eyes. 

"It's louder..." she wheezed. "Painful...God, what he must be going through..." 

Beverly touched her shoulder supportively. "Take it easy, Deanna. You know you're not in the best health at the moment." 

Deanna's next words sent a violent and unpleasant shock through Will and Beverly, both of whom stared at the distraught counsellor in uncontrolled amazement and deep concern. 

"Shut the fuck up, Crusher." 

The expression on Beverly's face was one of pain mingled with the sensation of having been betrayed. Will patted her hand, and stepped warily towards Deanna, half-expecting her to challenge him as well. 

"Deanna--" 

She glared acidly at him, and strode purposefully towards the house. As she reached the old-fashioned door and knocked politely, she turned to watched Will and Beverly, waiting for them to follow her up to the doorstep. When there was no response, Deanna knocked again with a touch more impatience. 

Finally, the door began to swing open, and Will rushed forwards as Deanna suddenly turned even paler, and collapsed to the floor. Again he failed to reach her in time to prevent her head from striking the concrete, and again he vowed not to make a habit of it. As he steadied her against his own shaking body, he glared at Kevin Uxbridge, who was finishing the step he had started when Deanna had passed out. 

"What the hell did you do to her, you bastard?" barked Will, holding Deanna close to himself as she sighed contentedly and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

Kevin's skin was the colour of ash, and his breathing was laboured as he spoke in a voice that was a clear effort. "It was the only way I could be certain of getting your attention...I needed your help immediately." 

((He needs our **help**?)) thought Will, struggling to keep his incredulity to himself. ((What could an immortal being like that possibly need from us?)) 

"This is manipulation!" he cursed. "You cannot do this to her! If you wanted help, why didn't you just call over the intercomm?" 

The old man laughed, a ragged sound that lacked mirth. "Because, this is the only way for me to get you to agree to my request. My crime was a hideous one...and I **must** be punished for it! You are to punish me." 

Will felt his heart miss a beat. Deanna stirred in his arms, and frowned at him with a drunken gaze that he found himself embarrassingly attracted to. "What's happening?" she whispered, then cringed at the sight of the old man. 

"You want me to punish you?" Will repeated, uncertain of where to take this conversation. "You want us to find a suitable punishment?" 

Deanna shrank into him, pulling away from Kevin's clawing fingers. "Stop it!" she begged, childlike in her simplicity. "Please stop hurting me! I haven't **done** anything!" 

Kevin ignored her and, for the time being, so did Will. "No, Commander, I do not want you to decide my punishment; that much, I have done myself. I merely need some help to carry it out." 

"Do you want our authority? Our compassion? Our morals and ethics?" Will was ticking off possibilities more quickly than he could draw breath. 

Kevin shook his weary head. "No, I want nothing so simple from you." He took a deep and tremulous breath before continuing. 

"What do you want, then?" asked Will softly. 

"Commander Riker, Counsellor Troi, Doctor Crusher..." he announced formally. "I want from you..." 

"Stop it! Please, please stop it!" howled Deanna. 

Will clamped a hand over her mouth, allowing Kevin to continue his speech. 

"I want your mortality." 

Will felt his knees going weak, and slumped to the ground, still clutching Deanna. "You...what?" he mumbled, trying to keep his horror from consuming him. 

"You heard me," said the Douwd in a low voice. "I want you to give to me your mortality. I said that I had chosen my own punishment, and I have. I choose the death penalty...it is the only suitable way I can find for me to make up for the sin that I have committed." 

Beverly stepped forwards, and glared defiantly at the old man. "What will happen to us?" she demanded, and Will could see that her physician's side was intrigued by what she was hearing. "Are we going to just dissolve into a pile of dust...or what?" 

Kevin seemed to hesitate for a moment; this was clearly something of great importance and relevance. "In return for your mortality, you will recieve the eternal damnation of immortality. You have my deepest apologies, but I **must** be punished for this sin." 

Beverly opened her mouth to speak, but Will interrupted her. It was every mortal's dream, but he could not accept it. "I'm sorry, Mr. Uxbridge, but I can't allow you to do this." 

Kevin's eyes grew dark with fury, and he stepped threateningly towards them. "I thought you would say that," he growled. "And I have prepared." His eyes fell down to Deanna's child-like form as she huddled in Will's embrace. "For as long as your stubborness has reign over your decision, I will keep the music within her mind." He took a shaking breath. "As you well know, I am a man of special conscience, who would not commit such horrors as what I am doing to her, but you must understand **at all costs** the scope of my heinous crime, and the importance that I be punished for it." 

"Release her!" Will snapped, his voice growing high-pitched. The thought of Deanna's suffering was almost enough to force him to agree...but his sense of ethics overcame that almost immediately. "You cannot think that by manipulation and torture you can change the minds of mortal, **moral** beings." 

In his arms, Deanna stirred, and she brought herself up to meet the Douwd face-to-face. Not looking back or up, she addressed Will. "Do not fight my battles for me," she said softly, then raised her voice. "I damn you to an eternal punishment!" she shrieked at Kevin. "You are cursed with an infinite life of guilt and self-hatred. Death is not a punishment for you...it is a way of escaping from your raging guilt. **This** is the only way you can truly suffer and be punished for what you have done to those people." 

She fell back, pale and trembling, and Will kissed her temple gently. "Release her," he said to Kevin. "Don't let anyone else suffer at your greedy hands." 

Kevin shook his head wearily. "No," he said quietly. 

Will frowned at the old man, trying desperately to see what he had to achieve by forcing Deanna to constantly suffer. ((Doesn't this bastard have enough guilt on his shoulders?)) he wondered. ((Or is he trying to punish her because he can't punish himself?)) 

"You hypocrit!" shouted Beverly. "You say you have special conscience, but you do not. You feel nothing but your own sadistic pleasures." 

Deanna sat up, groaning; Will only had to look at her face to see that Kevin had made the music even louder. "Beverly, SHUT UP!!" she barked. "I can't force him to release me, and neither can you. Forget it. If he wishes to spend the rest of his existence taking out his own self-hatred on an innocent mortal, there is nothing we can do to stop it." 

Her hands were cold as Will helped her to step down from his arms, though he continued to steady her shoulders as she swayed. "Deanna..." he said softly. "We can't just let you suffer like this?" 

She laughed, a sound tinged with bitterness. "What would you do to have him release me?" she asked, and her voice was shrill. "Kill him???" 

"She's right, Will," Beverly said softly, glancing uneasily at Deanna, as if anticipating that she would be told to shut up again. "There's nothign more we can do here. Let's get back to the ship...maybe I can find **some** way to stop her from hearing the music." 

As Will ordered the _Enterprise_ to beam them back up, he stared directly at the shrivelled man, and in the instant that the glittering swirls engulfed him, the first tear slid silently down Kevin Uxbridge's cheek. 

He knew that they were right. 

------------------------------ 

The moment they materialised on the transporter platform, Deanna fled the room, mumbling briefly something about having a lie down. Will and Beverly watched her disappearing, and looked at each other; there were tears in Will's eyes. 

"Beverly...could you go and report to the captain?" he asked quietly. "I'd like to make sure she's okay..." 

Sighing, the doctor nodded, and Will rushed out of the room, striding quickly towards her quarters. He found her facedown on her bed, crying. 

"It hurts, huh?" he murmured, sitting down beside her. 

She did not look up, but as he laid a reassuring hand upon her back, she tensed and her gulping sobs began to calm. Still without so much as glancing at him, she spoke, and her voice was muffled by the thick duvet beneath her. "Go away, Will." 

He trailed his fingers up and down her spine, relaxing her, and she finally raised her head. Dried tracks were painted down her pinkened cheeks, and her chest heaved wildly. "I'm sorry...it's just...so loud! I can't think without being overwhelmed by the noise..." 

"I know..." he said softly. "I'm so sorry." 

She reached out, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately. "I don't know what to do!" she wept. "Imzadi...please, help me!" She kissed him again, and his breath caught in his throat. "When I'm with you...it's quieter...help me shut it out." 

"Of course," he soothed. "I'll do anything you want...if it makes you feel better, I swear I'll do **anything** for you." 

She shook her head, leaning against his broad chest. "You can't. Damn it, you can't! You can make it quieter, but you can't make it STOP!! That is what I want, and you can't do it..." 

He placed his fingertips over her temples, wishing to the gods of the universe that he could make the pain go away. Nobody deserved such hell, least of all the sweet, kind individual known as Deanna Troi. 

"Will..." she breathed, afer a moment of tearful silence. Her face suddenly shone with infinite joy, and incomprehensible joy. "Will...it's gone! Imzadi, you did it...Oh God, how can I ever thank you for doing this for me?" She threw herself upon him, showering his lips with unabashed kisses. 

He frowned. ((Gone? Just like that?)) It seemed somehow like an anticlimax...after all the pain and torture, she was suddenly healthy? Something was not right about the entire incident. 

"It's not coming back," she said with conviction. "I don't know how I can be so sure, but I **know** that he will not hurt me, or anyone else again. Thank you." 

Tears shone in both of their eyes, but they were not the tears of pain that, over the past few days, had not been able to dry up. 

They were tears of shared happiness. 

------------------------------ 

Far below, on the planet Ranna, more tears fell, and they belonged to the peculiar creature known as Kevin Uxbridge. His tears were tinged with bitterness and rage, directed for the first time at the correct person. Himself. 

At last, he was beginning the punishment that would last beyond the end of time. 

THE END....? 

Feedback would be VERY much appreciated. Get in touch with me via my email address gary@aizen.demon.co.uk (there is also a link to my address on my home page). Even if it's just a couple of words, please let me know what you think of it. 


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